


Vengeance

by UnknownSatellite84



Series: The Monster You Made Me [1]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Anger, Backstory, Dark, Hatred, Headcanon, Murder, One Shot, Revenge, Strong Language, Time Travel, Violence, original timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-24 01:14:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10731120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnknownSatellite84/pseuds/UnknownSatellite84
Summary: “'Okay, Reverse, what’s your story? I heard you blew up three square blocks.''I hate the Flash, and he deserves to be destroyed,' Eobard responded, sipping his drink. For his own benefit, he kept his cowl on. 'He thinks I’m a tiny, pesky fly that can’t touch him. Fair enough. But his precious city isn’t so untouchable. What better way to strike at a god but through his devoted followers? Every death will shake their faith in their beloved hero.'”- A series of drabbles all compressed into a one-shot on the events leading up to how Eobard became stuck in the twenty-first century. Companion fic for my other story, Reversed.





	Vengeance

_"When you go, you have to stop him. Do whatever it takes. You must never trust him."_

Eobard let those words from his future self play in his head when he tripped the silent alarm at the warehouse.

Eobard had told himself a million times that this wasn’t vengeance. He was doing what was necessary. But it didn’t matter, not really. There was an angry hurt in his heart, begging to be soothed, to be avenged, and damn, was it really so bad if he let a little vengeance in on this? After all, he was still doing the right thing, too. Wasn't that enough?

He waited, silent, cold on that winter’s eve with the snow drifting around him. _Any second now…_

There was a flash of golden electricity, and the Flash appeared. Eobard's heart hammered, and he flung himself forward, fist raised. An iron grip locked onto his wrist, and he was flung around to slam against a wall.

“Eobard?” came the surprised question.

“Hello to you too, _Flash_ ,” bit out the younger man.

The Flash released him and stepped back. “I told you not to pursue me. I warned you what would happen.”

Eobard cradled his throbbing arm, wondering if it was wrenched from its socket. “You egotistical fucker,” he growled, agonized. Pushing himself, he made it to his feet. “As if I’d go running after you, begging to trail in your shadow like a lost, sad, little puppy again.” He winced. “Never again. No. I’m here to give you a gift, in return for the one you gave me.”

“What are you talking about? A gift?”

“It's called a lot of pain and suffering...then death.”

“You want to kill me?” He probably didn’t mean to, but the Flash barked a laugh. “So you want revenge for me cutting you loose. You really are a child. You have no idea what you’re even saying, do you?”

Those words cut and stung with each syllable like they were made of daggers and needles. “I know exactly what I’m saying!” Eobard roared and flung himself at the Flash. The Scarlet Speedster sidestepped and stuck out a leg, tripping the younger man. He gracelessly tumbled into the snow.

“What is that you’re wearing?” The hero asked in a curious tone as if this was a normal day and they weren't in the middle of a goddamn _fight_.

Eobard looked up and snarled. “I’m wearing the opposite colors of you, because I’m your reverse. I’m Reverse Flash!” He bared his teeth and pushed up, brushing snow off of his chest.

“Then you should have worn green,” the other said, “that’s the opposite of red.”

“God, you’re such an asshole!” Eobard lunged forward, lashing out.

“Don’t make me hurt you,” Flash said. “Give it up, Fanboy - you’re outmatched.”

Eobard flailed out with wild speed punches, trying to land a hit, but not a single one came anywhere close to reaching his foe. He couldn’t even get within an arm's reach of him. Flash was far too fast, and seemed to be dancing away, amusement radiating from his casual stance every time he slowed enough to flash a cheeky grin - as if this was a game, and not a dark battle of vengeance.

“Damn...you…” Eobard gasped, winded. He felt his hatred growing with each second. “Just...hold...still…”

“Okay,” Flash said, halting. “I’ll stand right here. Hit me.”

Eobard bared his teeth. He howled and lashed out.

Flash caught it with an open palm. Their eyes met. The Scarlet Speedster slammed his own fist forward, hitting him in the gut. Eobard felt all the air explode from his lungs, and he fell to his knees, head bowed. _Damn it. Stand up._ He wouldn’t kneel to this man. He was no god, no hero; he didn’t deserve worship.

“I told you to go home, Fanboy,” Flash said, calm, not even a little out of breath. “I know you’re angry, but you’ll understand one day. Calm down. It’s not the end of everything you can be. With your mind, you can help this world in ways I refuse to. Build, advance technology and medicine. Who knows, you may even make a name for yourself _outside of my shadow_.”

“Shut.. _.up_ ...” Eobard caught his breath, and pushed to his feet. “You can’t command me anymore! You will never control me again! So shut the hell up! You don’t understand _anything_ about me, and you never listen to me! I don’t want to hear another word come out of your mouth!”

Eobard felt the next strike jar him to the core. He hit the ground, barely conscious. Tears welled in his eyes, and he told himself it was from the pain on the outside, not the pain on the inside.

He heard the other saying, “you’re very blinded by your emotions. It’s obvious you won’t listen to me, but if there’s one thing you need to consider - it's how much stronger I am than you. So run after me all you want, but you’ll never be able to catch up. I have a  _decades_ head start in this race you’re determined to run... And one day, you’ll realize you are a dog chasing a car, and you’ll stop, turn around, go home...”

In a burst of Speed Force, the other was gone.

Eobard heard nothing but police sirens wailing in the distance. He rolled over, breathing as slowly as he could manage. Tears stung his skin.

_Goddamn it. I’m not a child. Stop this._ He balled his fists and willed the torment away. Gritting his teeth, he stood, staring into the snowy night. “I’ll destroy you, Flash,” he promised the darkness illuminated only by a lone street light. “You may have a headstart, but you’re running mouth just gave me an idea on how to catch up.”

* * *

Eobard struck out at the Flash first.

He almost hit him, but the other pulled away at the last second. Determined, the Reverse kept going, lashing at the red blur, but none of his hits landed.

Damn it, this was getting far too familiar.

“Hold on a moment,” snapped the Flash, putting about ten feet between them. His lack of a condescending tone halted Eobard. "Just who the hell are you trying to be?"

Eobard grinned. This was perfect. There would be no smug overlord glaring down at him here. This younger Flash had never met him.

Distorting his voice, he responded, “ _I'_ _m your reverse, Flash.”_

“What?” Flash asked, looking wary. "My reverse?"

“ _I’m your karma, come to destroy you for all that you will become.”_

He struck out again, but the other still remained out of reach.

Eobard didn’t see the retaliation, but he felt it throughout his entire body. Anger flitted across his mind before the other vanished in a burst of lightning. The Reverse pushed from the floor.

_Thirty years isn’t enough. I have to go back further. Just how old is the Flash really?_

* * *

Fifty years wasn’t enough time, either, and the Flash then seemed no younger than the one from thirty years ago. Seventy and ninety years in the past, he also tried. Each time, the Scarlet Speedster was the same, and always out of his reach when he tried to hit him. It gave him pause to realize that the other was over one hundred, though. But it couldn't be by much, right? That was such a ridiculous amount of time. He would have died from his heroics by then.

How could he not? The sheer odds of him surviving so long...

He hated to be reminded of how immortal the other seemed. He _wasn't_ a god.

_One hundred years,_ he decided. This time he would finally kill him.

He found the Flash again. When he initiated the fight, Eobard was pleased to find he could almost keep up.

“Who are you?” The winded speedster asked the expected question the moment there was a lull in their battle. It never failed. He asked it each and every time.

But Eobard was getting tired of answering. He had it down to a concise reply - “ _I’m your Reverse, Flash, and I’m here to kill you.”_

He roared and struck with his fist.

It landed.

Euphoria rushed through him at the way the Flash staggered from him, at the way he cried out, at the way pain curled his lips.

After a few more hits, Eobard was confronted with the familiar feeling of crashing into the ground. He saw red boots in front of his face.

“You’re crazy,” the Flash said. “I’m ending this.” He lashed out with his fist.

Eobard dodged and ran away, entering the timestream and vanishing.

_So close,_ he thought, as the blue energy of the Speed Force surrounded him. He was pissed. The Flash from his time would pay for this, and he had a sudden idea on how. _I’m so good at coming up with the most perfect ideas._

* * *

“So, Reverse Flash...or is it just Reverse?” asked the bartender gruffly that worked for the Racugno crime family, swiping the surface of his counter with a damp cloth.

“Reverse is fine.”

“Okay, Reverse, what’s your story? I heard you blew up three square blocks."

“I hate the Flash, and he deserves to be destroyed,” Eobard responded, sipping his drink. For his own benefit, he kept his cowl on. “He thinks I’m a tiny, pesky fly that can’t touch him. Fair enough. But his precious city isn’t so untouchable. What better way to strike at a god but through his devoted followers? Every death will shake their faith in their beloved hero.”

An eyebrow raised. “Heard he’s looking for you, now. Most of the time that happens, the target goes to Iron Heights and is locked away for good.”

“That’s why I’m paying your boss to lay low...for the time being…” He stared at the arrangement of bottles on the back shelf. “One day, I’ll outrun the Scarlet Speedster, and then I’ll kill him.”

The other snorted in disbelief. “Doesn’t matter how fast you can run. The Flash has existed forever. You can’t defeat him. Everyone who cares has already tried.”

Eobard didn’t care that this stranger didn’t believe him, because he already knew the truth; he would be the death of the Flash.

And now the hero was beginning to understand the reality of this situation. Eobard appreciated being seen as a true enemy. _Finally_. And he enjoyed every second of this special torment inflicted on the other. He knew the Flash. Every death would just weigh on him even more. Every failed heroics would mar him forever. This vengeance was so sickly-sweet. He no longer cared about doing the right thing. He just wanted the God of Central City to fall low and die a slow and agonizing death.

He'd been turned into a monster on this journey, and he loved it.

* * *

It just wasn’t enough.

No matter how many years he jumped back, the other speedster always won the ensuing fight, even if it seemed purely through accident. He hated it. It pissed him off to a degree he could scarce describe until he was screaming mad and throwing chairs around and smashing tables. The other should have had a weakness, a crack, a flaw, an Achilles's Heel, something he could exploit.

Anything.

_A single weakness is all I need. What is it?_

It hit him.

_He has one._

Beneath the god persona of the Flash, he had a name. A real, human name, first, middle, last - an identity. It was simple, perfect. Go back to the beginning. Before that, even. Kill the Flash before he could become the Flash. But first, he had to figure out just when the man was born, and that meant finding what time he came from, specifically.

He loved his intellect, his perfect plans. Maybe he wasn't _strong_ enough to defeat his nemesis, but he was certainly _smart_ enough.

* * *

" _Hello, Flash,”_ Eobard greeted. _“It’s been awhile.”_

The Flash stared at him, eyes narrowed. “Yeah, it has. I can’t believe you resorted to murder, just to get at me.”

_“It was the only way I could think of to strike back at you, for all that you did.”_

“It’s pathetic, hurting innocents because of your weakness, your sad need for vengeance.”

_“I’m not weak,”_ Eobard said, _“In fact, I'm wearing on you, aren't I? And if that isn't power, then what is? I’m finally on your level. In just over a year, too. How does that make you feel?”_

“That’s a bold claim.”

_“I’m as fast as you. You can’t catch me. You can’t lock me up, even after all that I’ve done. I’m better than you...or I will be soon, at least. Then, you die. I know your weakness now.”_

“We’ll see about that, Fanboy.”

The name sent a stab of anger through him. _“Stop calling me that,”_ he growled, tensing. _“I’m Reverse Flash.”_

“No,” replied the other speedster, “you aren’t. You’re a temperamental, corrupt, grasping child swinging an axe, and it’s going to fall back on you one day.”

Eobard laughed. _“Well, we’ll just see about that.”_

He rushed into their war once again, this time unafraid. He hit the other. Hit this older Flash. Hit him hard enough he was flung back.

God, it felt so good.

The resulting fight lasted for hours, and had no victor.

But damn if it didn’t feel so _good._

* * *

Eobard stared at the wall of the blue prison cell. It was rather old-fashioned, but it was working as intended. And it amused and annoyed him simultaneously that of all the Flashes that’d faced off with him, this incredibly young one - who had to be in his twenties - had actually caught him. He blamed that on the fact that he had to stick around longer than normal; he was facing a greater problem this time, and that was getting back to his twenty-second century. For some reason, he couldn’t enter the timestream now. Attempting to do so sent him sprawling with fatigue.

_Tachyons,_ his steadfast IQ had told him. If he couldn't time travel with his powers alone, then science would make up the difference. The problem was, that tachyonic research was still in its infancy during this time period, and getting his hands on it was ridiculously hard. 

Of course the Flash had stopped him. Even the younger version was insufferable. Oddly enough, this Flash also knew him, knew his name - which meant he would come back to an even earlier time. The temporal reversion must have finally been catching up with his time-jumps.

And that was why he made no move to try and escape. It wouldn’t be long now. He knew that they’d have to send him back, or the paradox would start hurting them, changing them, erasing them.

And eventually, they did just as expected, and Eobard can’t stop feeling amused by how angry the Flash looked over it.

He’d take his victories where he could, for the finale was almost here.

* * *

_Bartholomew Henry Allen. Barry Allen. The Flash._

_That’s his name._

_He works for the CCPD as their lead forensics expert._

How hadn’t he seen this before? It made so much sense.

And now…

“Gideon, it’s time. Time to end this war.”

“Good luck, Professor Thawne.”

* * *

Eobard was blind with emotion. _“You think you can stop me!? I know you’re name now, Barry Allen, born just before the turn of the millennia. I’ll kill you as a child. You won’t be able to resist me then.”_ The Flash looked far more worn than he remembered, Eobard’s time jumps obviously having their effect. Good.

“You know better than this, Fanboy. You’ve taken this entire thing way too far. You're insane.”

Eobard grinned. _"You shouldn’t have scorned me the way you did, Flash. I will shred your heart apart, and I’ll love every second of it. I’ll end you, as I was meant to do.”_

He turned and began to run. Flash chased him.

_Finally._ He knew the other’s name, and he was staying just ahead of him. It was everything he had wanted for so long. He could destroy him. He _would._

Barry Allen.

He exploded into Central City in the primitive age the Flash had been raised in. He flew into the house, but the Flash crashed into him. They fought around the living room for what felt like hours. And then Eobard saw him, saw the young Barry Allen, staring right at him, even though he knew he couldn't see him; he would only be a yellow blur of color to the powerless child. He cried out and launched himself at his target.

_Finally._

Finally, he would kill his enemy with his own two hands.

Finally, he'd be free of the overwhelming omnipotence of the _Flash,_ free of the god who had stood above him for too long.

A fist crashed into his face, and he slammed against the wall, dazed.

When he looked up, Barry Allen - both of them - were gone.

He thundered, “ _NOOOOO_!” He stood, shaking. All the anger, all the work - ir had been for _nothing_.

There were two people left in the room. They were obviously the mother and father of the boy. The father was lying unconscious on the floor. He must have been hit in the fight. The mother was kneeling in the middle of the living room, face tear-stained, a glass of wine spilled and shattered at her side.

_What if…_

Calming himself, he let his perception return to normal time; he let himself be perceived.

The woman saw him. She gasped in fear.

Eobard felt a surge of euphoria that came with yet another perfect idea. His intelligence had always been his edge on the Flash. He could still win.

_If I give him a childhood trauma he can’t get over...if I change his life so much...if I do this one deed..._

_The Flash will be gone, forever._

_I’ll be free of him._

_The future will be safe from him._

_And I will have had my vengeance sated._

He picked up a butcher knife, savoring the rough grip in his hand, savoring what a mistake it was for the hero to leave him here alone with these helpless people. He grinned.

The woman sobbed.

He stabbed her in the heart. Blood ran onto his hand, and the mother of the Flash stared, sightless, a silent scream on her lips. He told himself it was okay that he savor this atrocity. After all, this woman was already dead, and it wasn't about her; it was about her son, Barry Allen, the Flash. He’d killed the Flash, because the hero would never get powers, he would never live to see the twenty-second century.

He left the woman bleeding out and rushed out onto the street. He looked around, half hoping to see some sign of the Flash, so he could throw this victory in his face, but he was gone, probably back to the future, where he would be erased slowly and painfully.

_I could be there to see that end… I’ll jump to the exact moment he returned to, and watch him die._

He dashed down the street, summoning the Speed Force.

It faded, slipping from his grasp.

He tumbled, skidding across the asphalt of the street. He sat up, fatigue washing over him.

_“Gideon, what’s happening to me_?” He asked, dizzy.

“You’re last time-jump against the Flash caused a massive drain in your powers. There is no trace of the Speed Force in your system."

Shock hit him. _“That’s impossible. How am I supposed to get back?!”_

Gideon said bluntly, “you can’t.”

How?

How was this possible?

He had expected some minor problems - nothing tachyons couldn't fix - but for the Speed Force to just be _gone_ from him _._ It couldn't be possible. And yet, he knew Gideon was right. He didn't feel even an ounce of its power. In fact, he already felt slower, heavier, like he’d aged ten years.

Fiery anger surged through him.

He threw his head back and roared into the night.

Even when he’d won, he’d still lost.

He yanked the cowl of the suit back, feeling like he was suffocating. His heart began to pound.

_No no no no… I have to get back. I have to. But how…?_

It crept into his mind, his brain already there to solve all his problems.

_The Flash became a speedster in this time... I'll create him, then use his Speed Force to get back._

And then he laughed, because goddamn the fucking irony. It was as if the universe was holding a gun to his temple to make sure the Flash existed, as if he were some god the world needed to keep on turning, and his death was unthinkable. And as always, Eobard was fated to exist only in the shadow of the king of the Speed Force.

He _hated_ it so much.

But right now, getting home was more important than his hatred. He picked himself up and walked forward, determination filling his stride.

It wouldn't be easy, but he could do it.

He _could._


End file.
